


Something in the air is giving me bad ideas

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [60]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Music, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Jason Todd, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Just another night after a movie, although this one doesn't quite end like any of the others. Not that it's a bad thing.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Exchange Fics [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51139
Comments: 12
Kudos: 127
Collections: 300bpm Flash Exchange November 2019





	Something in the air is giving me bad ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/gifts).



> Title and inspiration from "Sidekick" by WALK THE MOON.
> 
> Many thanks to stevieraebarnes for the beta!

By the time they make it out of the cinema the sky has darkened to an almost blackness, like that of a cover of stormclouds. It's akin to stepping out of a time capsule, and Jason wonders if he's lost more than the scheduled one and a half hours. Certainly feels like it.

After the third tedious joke that was clearly not targeted at Jason's particular brand of humor, he resigned himself to his growing annoyance and waited for his chance to slip out for a smoke break or a nervous breakdown. Whichever was needed more. He offered to get a refill for Dick's popcorn and stayed out flirting with the girl behind the counter for an extended period of time – extended enough that even Dick noticed his suspicious absence. Jason assured him the line had been so long it could be seen from space which was both a bald-faced lie and a factual untruth even if there had been a cosmically long line. Lines are notoriously hard to see from space.

Dick dismissed Jason's bullshit excuse in favor of concentrating on the movie. At least someone was enjoying it. That's what mattered, right?

And Jason did have to admit that he enjoyed listening to Dick enjoy himself. His laughter was startled at times, joyous at others, and Jason thought he needed to hear nothing more for the rest of the movie as he sank into his seat and began to snooze.

Dick was still laughing when he dragged Jason out of the hall. Jason voiced his displeasure at having his nap disturbed, not that Dick cared.

They're outside now in the nipping cold, and Jason's bleary eyes prefer Gotham's gloom to the cheery lights inside the movie theater. 

"Thank you for taking me, Jason," Dick says and his smile is just as bright as the billboards highlighting his profile. 

Jason stuffs his free hand into his jacket pockets. The other is hooked through his bike helmet. "It was _your_ idea."

"Still, I had fun."

"Wait till you see what I have planned for next time. You won't have so much fun then."

"Another one of your dumb action flicks?"

"Worse: French cinema."

Dick groans, fiddling with the chin strap of his own helmet. "You never even pick any of the good ones."

Because that is what they do: they drag each other to movies they know the other won't enjoy (sometimes knowing they won't enjoy it either) just to see who is going to throw in the towel first. Their competitive natures can be a curse on occasion. Still, without it they'd never have made the awkward realization that they both enjoy chick flicks like _Legally Blonde_ or _10 Things I Hate About You._

It's a newer thing between them, the dragging each other to movies. The simply hanging out sometimes. Jason is not really used to being friendly with anyone, least of all someone he'd tried to kill at one point or another, but it's nice to take part in the mundane aspects of life from time to time. To get a taste of what life is like for the people they save on a nightly basis.

Jason shrugs. "I don't make the film schedule." He leaves out that he absolutely picks the worst things he can find when they decide to have a private movie night – which usually happens because one of them is too ill or banged up to be seen outside of their respective homes.

"You also don't _have_ to choose the one that's most dreary. The one with the kid who continued living around his dead mother, not realizing she was dead? Dreadful. Heartbreaking, but dreadful."

"Some people would call it art, you know?"

"Some people call an upside down urinal art," Dick points out, hands thrown up as if to defend himself from more opinions he doesn't share. "Doesn't mean I have to think so, too."

"Point taken."

"Thank you."

Now begins the awkward phase of grinding boots against gravel, of not knowing what else to say except goodbye. Dick cocks his head, lips parted as though about to say just that.

The words 'Get back home safe' are already on Jason's tongue, as if to preempt Dick, but something must have warped them because what comes out of his mouth is, "Wanna grab a drink?"

Dick blinks in surprise for a second before his face softens and he smiles again. "I could go for drinks. But I could also go for something more substantial than that."

Jason feels warm beneath his clothes all of a sudden, despite the chill biting at his ears. "I think I still have something in the fridge. I could heat that up for you."

"Sounds perfect. Lead the way."

They walk over to their bikes and Jason thinks his heartbeat is as obvious as in Poe's _Telltale Heart,_ which of course it would be to his own ears. He takes a moment too long with his helmet held over his head to admire Dick's thighs straddling his seat. He pulls it down roughly, hoping Dick didn't notice, and nearly pinches his skin as he fastens his helmet.

"Race you," he says and revs the engine.

\---

Jason swears he didn't plan this. Or, he would swear to it if he had breath enough to do so.

His back is pressed against the fridge. Some magnets have clattered to the floor already, his grocery lists and notes to himself lying next to them. Dick's fists are bunched in his sweater, keeping him in place. Not that Jason would go anywhere. Not when Dick is kissing him. 

Dick fucking Grayson is kissing him.

Jason must be the luckiest bastard in all of greater Gotham for that to happen. Maybe the entire eastern seaboard.

They barely made it into Jason's safehouse before the tension broke between them. The door is still ajar, keys abandoned in the lock. Their jackets and boots lie scattered in the hallway because Jason will enforce his strict no shoes policy whether he's bleeding out on the floor or kissing Dick Grayson – he's never even thought about how much easier that makes getting rid of pants, too, should the need arise. 

The heat in Jason's cheeks cranks up a notch at the thought, but he can't even say it's not a pertinent one. His pants are growing tighter with each passing breath, and Jason could definitely benefit from getting rid of them.

And yet, despite the fire that's coursing through his veins, he can't ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head that warns him of the terrible mistake he's making. Dick and he have just become something like friends and he doesn't want to jeopardize that just because he's always had a hard-on for the guy. He also doesn't want to become just another notch in Dick's bedpost.

Sometimes he hates the fact that he can't shut off that part of his brain that overanalyzes everything.

He grasps Dick's elbows.

"If you want me to heat up some food, you're gonna have to let me at the fridge."

"I'm good like this, Jason," Dick says and bites his lower lip as his thumb skates over Jason's.

"You said you wanted dinner," Jason says weakly, not used to hearing his voice in quite such a hungry tone.

"I said I could go for something more substantial than a drink," Dick says and Jason's spine stiffens to feel Dick grope him through his pants. "Didn't think it would be _this_ substantial, though."

"Oh, _fuck,"_ Jason curses. If there was one cell in his body that hadn't been ablaze before, it definitely is now. He gently eases Dick away from him and reverses their positions. "I'm sorry, Dick, but I can't have that."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Jason, I came on too strong, didn't I?" Dick says, suddenly self-conscious, but Jason shushes him with a kiss.

"No need for apologies, Dickie. It's just. You're a guest in my house and I won't suffer you to lift a finger."

With that, Jason sinks to his knees in front of Dick, unpacking his fly like a present he has wished to receive for years (which, in fact, he has) – eagerly, but with a sense of awe and excitement, of disbelief and gratitude. Pins and needles shiver over his scalp and down across his back as Dick rakes his fingers through Jason's hair.

Jason kind of wishes he'd flicked on the lights, but he didn't want to ruin the moment by literally shining a light on it. He wants to see everything now, but what little illumination there is only gives him a shadowy outline of the shapes surrounding him.

All he can do is run his nose up the length of Dick's hot, silky flesh, breathe him in, taste him.

And that's plenty. It's more than he ever thought he would get.

"Ah, shit," Dick breathes out when Jason takes him into his mouth. His head falls back against the door of the fridge. "That's no fair, you know? First you, _ah,_ first you tell me to feel right at home and then.. then you treat me like a guest." Dick gasps, body trembling. "Wait—do you, _hah,_ treat all your guests like this?"

Jason pulls off long enough to say, "Only the pretty ones," before redoubling his efforts. Dick is entirely too coherent for his liking. He has to do something about that before he starts worrying about whether Dick is not enjoying himself.

Dick huffs a weak laugh, but even that dissolves into a moan. There are no more words exchanged between them, only sighs and more expletives, until Dick tells him he's close.

Jason lets him use his face any way he wants, intoxicated by the way Dick's voice breaks when he comes.

Dick barely misses a beat. Jason has just swallowed the last drop of his release when Dick pushes him backwards. Jason rolls onto his elbows and watches Dick's shadowy form sink between his splayed thighs. He's forgotten all about his own erection until Dick palms it through his jeans. It fucking _pulses_ at the touch. He's so hard it's borderline painful and he breathes a sigh of sweet relief when Dick frees him.

That wonderful feeling of sweetness lasts only a second, replaced by a sharp desire the moment Dick's hot breath puffs against his naked skin.

Jason cries out when Dick's mouth engulfs him. It's scorching and wet and smooth, and it's so good that Jason forgets how to move for a second, or to breathe. His entire focus zooms in on the feel of Dick's mouth around him, his fingers massaging him, and the cut-off moans that escape Dick.

His release seems to take an eternity to build and yet it's over in a flash, one blinding moment of bliss in which he whites out and his entire body grows taut, tattered, trembling.

When his conscience clears, Dick is lying on the floor next to him, shoulder to shoulder and hands clasped with each other. They breathe together like this for a while, staring up at the dark ceiling, their taste lingering on each other's tongue.

"We're still on for next week, right?" Dick asks and tightens his grip on Jason's hand.

"If you're that desperate for some French—"

"Let me stop your terrible pun before you're making it," Dick says, index finger on Jason's lips. 

Dick's warmth makes Jason forget about the cold floor tiles beneath him. He removes Dick's hand from his face and kisses his knuckles.

"All I'm saying is that you don't have to wait until next week if you wanna make out again," he says, and for a panicked moment, Jason wonders if he's said the wrong thing.

But before he can crack an awkward joke and take it back, Dick leans down and kisses him. Jason tastes himself on his tongue and it makes him feel hot all over again. Dick did that. They both did. Jason is still recovering from it. He's not used to things working out in his favor. 

Though why shouldn't they, every once in a while? Jason deserves good things, too. And if Dick is the only good thing that will ever happen to him, he still comes out on top.

"Hey," he murmurs against Dick's lips, "wanna work a case together sometime? I could use a sidekick like you."

"Uhh, hold on," Dick says. "If anything, you would be _my_ sidekick. I've been in this gig a lot longer than you have, remember?"

"Go play the seniority card with someone else, geezer." Jason rolls them over and pins Dick's shoulders to the floor. "It's all about brute strength and stamina nowadays."

"Says who?" Dick snorts, as if he knows exactly what Jason is up to. Then again, Jason is nothing if not transparent. "You think you can outlast me?"

"I know I can."

"I wanna see you try."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Jason leans down and captures Dick's mouth with his own again. If there's one thing he can count on it's their competitive nature. At least this is a competition that they will both enjoy, no matter the outcome. No suffering through dreadful movies required.

**Author's Note:**

> I got carried away. Like these two.


End file.
